Ballad for the Wolf Maid
by CartaEscarlate
Summary: A song of Ice and Fire Prequel. The tale of the Blue Winter Rose, the most fair maiden from Winterfell, and the silver dragon from the South. Description of the events that led to Robert's Rebellion and how it unfolded.
1. The She-Wolf

**BALLAD FOR THE WOLF MAID**

_An A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction_

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own _A Song of Ice and Fire _or its characters; it belongs to George R. R. Martin.

Forgive me for some grammatical mistakes; English is not my mother language.

Besides the dialogues and some scenes, I've tried to follow the description of what happened before and during Robert's Rebellion the best I could. Of course, many of what I've wrote is based on theories.

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_When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him. _

_**Azor Ahai **_**Prophecy by Melisandre, the Red Priestess **

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**Chapter One**

_**The She-Wolf**_

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**281 AL**

**The Year of the False Spring**

* * *

**Glass Garden of the Castle of Winterfell**

**Capital of the North**

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The grey eyes of Lyanna Stark behold a shrub of blue winter roses. The pale blue of the roses was the tone of frost and recalled her of the Winter that was yet to come. Her hand collected one rose and felt its scent; it was her favorite perfume. She ran the flower between her fingers, carefully for not bleeding her skin with its thorns. After contemplating its rare beauty, she caught the rose between the dark locks of her long hair.

"Here you are, sister! They told me at the Hunter's Gate that you went riding with Brandon."

Ned approached with a smile in his long face; he was a tall young man, slightly muscular, with grey eyes and dark hair, which he wore a little long, along the edge of his brown cloak.

"We returned early today. Father wishes to make us some kind of announcement at supper."

"I have an announcement to make as well."

"An announcement concerning…?"

"You."

"Me?"

Lyanna's voice was loaded with curiosity and suspicion.

"Aye. Come, dear sister. Let us go sit by the black lake, in the Godswood."

Ned interwoven his arm in Lyanna's and walked to the outside of the Glass Garden, and entered the elder forest.

"You have always adored those blue winter roses… You come here almost every day."

"You know they are my favorite, brother… As well as the legend of Bael, the Bard."

"You've always been fond of tragic tales. During our childhood, the Old Nun used to recount that legend to us many times."

"_Bael the Bard was a wielding who lived beyond the Wall, and one day our ancestor Lord Brandon Stark, the Daughterless, called him a coward. To take revenge and to prove his courage, Bael climbed the Wall and entered Winterfell under the disguise of a singer…_"

"I remember now! He called himself _Sygerrik of Skagos_ which means «Deceiver of Skagos» in the Old Tongue of the First Men."

Ned laughed, caressing her sister's shoulder.

"Aye! _Here in Winterfell, Bael sang until midnight for the Lord, who was so impressed by his skills and asked him what he wanted as a reward. Bael only asked for the most beautiful flower blooming in Winterfell's gardens. As the blue winter roses were just blooming, Lord Stark accepted to offer him one. But… in the following morning, his only daughter had disappeared, and in her bed was the blue winter rose he had given to Bael the Bard_."

"That tale had always frightened me when I was a child. Why do you adore it so much? It's so macabre."

"It's not macabre!"

"Aye, it is! _Meanwhile, Lord Brandon discovers that they never left Winterfell and stayed hidden in the crypts, and his daughter gave birth to a boy, who became the new Lord Stark, because our line was on the verge of extinction. Thirty years later, Bael was King-Beyond-the-Wall, and led a wildling's army to South and had to fight his own son at the Frozen Ford, but he was incapable of killing him, therefore Bael let himself be killed. Lord Stark brings Bael's head back to Winterfell and his mother, who had loved the man, kills herself from the top of a tower._ That's macabre…"

"The legend of Bael, the Bard, does not have a happy ending. The majority of the tales don't have…"

Net sat next to the black lake and Lyanna joined his side. The Godswood of Winterfell was a dark and primitive place, a former forest untouched for ten thousand years, and the ground was covered with ancient hummus. The Weirwood Tree, with a melancholic face crimped into its white bone trunk, and its dark red leaves, which remembered blood, was the witness between the two brothers. Lyanna looked above, to the windows of Winterfell's Guest House, but her eyes were wondering.

"You look quite absent today, Lyanna."

"I'm having strange dreams lately… All nights I have the same dream. _I'm running in the woods Beyond the Wall. Everything is covered in snow and the wind is glacial. But, I'm not me… It's my spirit in the body of an albino direwolf. Then, an enormous black stag appears, that begins to persecute me. _This is odd; since direwolves are suppose to chase stags, and not the opposite! _Then, coming from the heavens, a dragon appears and lands in front for me, blocking my escape. His scales are silver, but his horns, wing bones and spinal crest are golden. The dragon roars to the black stag, but he does not move… _Do you think that could mean something, Ned?"

"I think that is just a dream."

"Aye… Perhaps…"

Lyanna's hand touched the cold black water of the small lake.

"But, what perplexes me is that in my dreams I never fear the dragon… Is the black stag that causes me fear."

"Direwolves were strong and courageous creatures. They are the sigil of our House."

"I know, brother. But isn't it strange? A direwolf feel afraid of a stag?"

"Depends on how large was the stag, and how small was the dragon! Don't take dreams too accurately, Lyanna… That's all they are, dreams. It's of no use to dwell in them."

Lyanna sighed, but regained her youthful and lively smile.

"Thus, what's the announcement that you want to make?"

Ned remained silent, while Lyanna gazed at him with impatience.

"Well…? Are you going to speak up, brother?"

"Father arranged something for you."

All the smiles on Lyanna's face fade away.

"Please… Tell me it is not what I'm thinking."

"You've come of age, Lyanna… Father found you a betrothal."

"Who is he?"

"Lord Robert of House Baratheon. You remember him, certainly. He was my childhood's greatest friend."

"Robert Baratheon?"

Lyanna repeated with disbelieve and disappointment.

"Robert will be a good husband for you, Lyanna. He may have his flaws but he is a good man."

"And he's also a drunkard whose greatest passions are brothels and hunting! I won't marry him, brother!"

"Lyanna… You know I hold your best interests in mind. Do you think I would ever agree with your betrothal to Robert Baratheon if I knew it would cause you unhappiness?"

"I recognize you are a man of honor, Ned. But that man you held in such high belief is not righteous and will not honor his vows."

"Please, Lyanna… Don't be so stubborn. You don't even know Robert. Despite his dreadful reputation, I believe him to be a good man. And he'll be a fine husband for you."

"He only wishes to wed me because he judges me as beautiful, Ned… He already has a bastard daughter… He will never stick to one bed."

"Lyanna! That language is not suitable for a Lady!"

"I'm no Lady…"

"You were born into House Stark, you are a noblewoman. You know that I love you deeply, sister… And I'm a great admirer of your free spirit. But, occasionally, you have to follow the social conventions."

"I'm a wolf. I follow no rules!"

"Wolfs are stronger in packs. A lonely wolf doesn't last long."

Lyanna sighed with sadness.

"I don't have a choice, have I?"

"Father ordered it."

"Father's only concern is to make an alliance with House Baratheon… He couldn't be less concerned with my welfare."´

"That's not true! You're an insightful young woman, Lyanna, don't create unfair judgments. Of course, father cares about your welfare. Thus, I truly believe that Robert loves you. He may have some… less honorable habits, but he will be more kept with you as his wife."

"Love is sweet, dearest Ned. But it cannot change a man's nature."

"Robert is quite a fine figure of a man."

"Those arguments won't serve much… I can be young, but I'm no fool… I recognize that Robert Baratheon never will be a faithful husband. I will never be happy in this matrimony…"

"Lyanna…"

"Don't. Don't say more about this matter… Or I will verbalize my wits and you'll regret it."

Lyanna stood up and cleaned the skirt of her velvet midnight-blue gown, and neither cared by the blue winter rose that had placed with so much delicacy in her hair, had fallen at her feet. Ned gazed above at her, with concern in his eyes, but the expression of his sister's beautiful face was cold as ice and her mind was filled with mysterious thoughts. In her depths, Lyanna knew that she had no desire to become another possession for Lord Robert Baratheon to own, use and cast aside as he pleases.

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**Tower of the Hand, Red Keep Castle**

**King's Landing**

**Capital City of the Seven Kingdoms**

* * *

Young Jaime Lannister had return from a campaign ordered by King Aerys II against the Kingswood Brotherhood, during which he was knighted on the battlefield by Ser Arthur Dayne, since he saved Lord Summer of House Crakehall from the notorious Big Belly Ben and crossed swords with the infamous Smiling Knight, a cruel and blood-thirsty outlaw. On his return to Casterly Rock, he stopped in King's Landing, to see Cersei Lannister, from whom he has been apart for years.

Tywin Lannister, as the Hand of the King, was at a meeting of the Small Council of King Aerys II. Jaime entered in silence at the Solar of the Tower of the Hand, and saw a beautiful young woman, dressed in red, sitting in a divan, looking at him; she had long golden hair and gorgeous green eyes, and in her hand there was a golden chalice. Jaime smiled to Cersei and went to kneel in front of her and embrace her. However, his sister's body didn't reward his joy.

"What's wrong?"

"Father found you a betrothal."

Jaime stared at her with disbelief.

"Who is she?"

"Lady Lysa Tully of Riverrun. Father seeks an alliance with House Tully. And their eldest daughter, Catelyn, is already betrothed to Lord Brandon of House Stark, heir to Winterfell…"

"No… It won't happen. Remember when father wanted to marry you with Prince Rhaegar Targaryen? The King married his son with Lady Elia of House Martel and Princess of Dorne instead."

"This is different, Jaime."

The memory of King Aerys's disdain was still very much alive in Cersei's soul. In 276 AL, Tywin Lannister hosted a Tourney in Casterly Rock, to welcome the King to the Westerlands. She remembers clearly when she first saw the young Dragon Prince; his silver hair flowing in the wind and his dark lilac eyes… Rhaegar Targaryen was the most beautiful man she had ever laid her eyes on. Next to him, Jaime looked like a mere stable boy. Cersei became infatuated by him and rejoice when her father said that planned to have her engaged to the Crown Prince at the final feast of the Tourney. Seduced by the perception of becoming Queen someday, she even agreed to visit the woodswitch of Lannisport, Maggy the Frog, with her friends. They laughed at her prophesies. Cersei asked the witch: _When will I wed the Prince?_ And Maggy the Frog answered: _Never. You will wed the King_. Cersei still recalls how foolish she was to pay money for that hoax. At the final feast of the Tourney, when Tywin Lannister shared his plans with King Aerys II, he mocked him for thinking he would give his son's hand to his servant's daughter, and turned down the offer. Cersei had never felt so humiliated in her entire life.

"Cersei?"

Jaime broke her line of thoughts.

"Besides, you are not the Crown Prince. Father can marry you off to any House that suits him!"

Cersei remained silent waiting for Jaime to reply, but her twin brother didn't say a word.

"I don't want you to marry the Tully girl. Her story is well-known. She impregnate of her father's ward and was forced to abort the child by drinking moon tea. Father could have found a more suitable woman for you. But of course… the only suitable woman for you is me."

"So what are we going to do about it?"

"You must be tired from your campaign. You fought bravely and you are a Knight now."

Cersei caressed his neck and Jaime trembled from her touch.

"Did you miss me?"

"Of course. I should be on my way to Casterly Rock, but I've come here just to see you…"

"Remember when we were children? The games we played in our room in Casterly Rock?"

Cersei whispered into his ear while caressing his chest, moving her hand down to his stomach.

"Aye…"

Cersei continued to caress the hardness on Jaime's breeches.

"One day a servant discovered us and told mother about it. She moved your room to the opposite side of the castle and made us promise we wouldn't do that again… She thought that would stop us from being together. And then father became Hand of the King, and brought me here… And I was apart from you, once more. But we belong together, Jaime."

Cersei's hand moved capriciously below his stomach, making Jaime moaned from the burning sensation.

"A knight like you belongs in the Kingsguard."

"What?"

"As a member of the Kingsguard you would be close to me and free yourself from this unwanted marriage. Isn't that what you want?"

"Aye… It is… But there's no place for me in the Kingsguard."

"I believe there is. While you were away, Ser Harlan of House Grandison died. Thus, the King must be looking for someone to replace him in Kingsguard."

"And why would the King choose me?"

"Because you will ask him to."

Jaime putted his hands in Cersei's shoulders and moved her away.

"I'm not going to beg for a place in Kingsguard! I'm a Lannister. We do not beg!"

"Even the Lion has bowed to the Dragon. But that doesn't mean that has lost its strength."

"No, I will not shame myself! I've just been knighted… I don't need to beg for favor to the King."

"Don't be so pretentious, Jaime! Sometimes sacrifices are needed in order to a greater good…"

Cersei softly caressed his shoulder but he turned off her hand.

"You'd be the youngest Knight ever in the Kingsguard. Your name will go down in the History of Westeros!"

"I will not beg, Cersei…"

"You won't have to."

Cersei locked her lips into his and kissed him passionately, embracing his neck while caressing his golden hair. Her fingers went down his chest and started unbuttoning his chemise, feeling his skin. She pushed him over the bed and sat on him, while unknotting the bonds of her bright-red corset, and displayed her pale breasts to Jaime.

"I'm not a child anymore."

"So I see."

Cersei pushed her twin brother to lie down in the bed and took off her dress, revealing her slender and gracious nude body. She stand up and Jaime was about to do the same, when she pushed him down again. Cersei pulled his breeches down and sat above him, caressed his hardness, making Jaime growl.

"Did you fuck someone else while you were gone?"

"No… There's been only you."

"We shared a womb… We belong together."

Cersei took his manhood and guide it inside her, as they both whimpered in pleasure. She moved her hips on the top of him, while Jaime's hands wandered through her nudeness, caressing her bottom and breasts. He trusted his hips onto hers until they both groaned in ecstasy, and Cersei rolled over to his side.

"Father will never accept it."

"Father doesn't need to know. Besides, he would not dare to object it in order not to offend the King."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Don't you worry, brother… I'll make the necessary arrangements for it. And we shall be together, always."

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**Storm's End Tavern and Inn**

**Stormlands**

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A tall and muscular, broad shouldered young man slammed the mug of iron on the top of the long wooden table. He had a handsome and clean shaven face, and his blue eyes were shining with joy and from the alcohol that ran in his veins.

"My lads! I have an announcement to make! My greatest wish has come true… Lord Rickard, head of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North has consent my marriage to his daughter, Lady Lyanna. I've loved this young woman for a long time… And she shall be mine."

Robert Baratheon raised his strong arms to hear the applauses of those present at the Inn.

"Congratulations, Lord Robert!"

"This calls for celebration!"

Robert Baratheon smiled vividly, like he was the winner of the biggest price in Westeros. The other men patted him in the back and congratulate him for his betrothal.

"Aye, I'm very happy indeed! I'm going to marry the most beautiful woman in Westeros!"

"Good for you, Lord Robert! My wife is so ugly that my eyes hurt only of looking at her!"

A red-haired man screamed, and some men laughed with thunder, while others spitted their wine between the laughter.

"Happy is the man that weds the woman he wants to! Not all of us are so fortunate, Lord Robert."

A prostitute came to Robert Baratheon; she had black hair and her face was not pretty, and turned uglier when she frowned childishly.

"Why the sad face, darling?"

"Lord Robert will wed a high-born Lady and will abandon us."

Her voice sounded of false innocence.

"No other Lord warms our nights as you, Lord Baratheon."

A prostitute with blonde hair approached.

"The ladies will miss you!"

A Lord said jokingly, while drank a large gulp of his mug.

"Well… I'm not married yet! Which of the ladies wants to accompany me on this beautiful night?"

"Choose me!"

The blond prostitute implore, caressing Robert's shoulders.

"No, choose me!"

The dark haired prostitute screeched.

"Me, Lord Robert! I know that you adore them!"

A red-haired woman approached, displaying her breasts to him.

Robert Baratheon looked around, observing all the prostitutes of the room. At the end, he pointed and proclaimed high:

"I want that. With black hair and icy eyes."

The young woman approached Robert with a false timid smile and dashing along the hips.

"Can I call you Lyanna?"

"You can call me whatever you want, Lord Robert!"

* * *

**Great Hall**

**Castle of Winterfell**

* * *

The Starks were gathered in a table of the Great Hall, waiting to start supper. The servants came with smoky pots that led, carefully, upon the table. The magnitude of the space seemed moved with the three brothers and Lord Rickard, a man of austere features, with a silver beard. At his right hand there was a empty place, which was fitted with a plate, cutlery and a cup.

"Your elder brother is delayed."

Lord Rickard commented, while a servant landed black bread upon the table.

"I don't see Brandon since early afternoon."

Lyanna, who was sitting between Ned and the small Benjen, said.

"We shall await his arrival. As I hope he modifies his character when he becomes the Lord of Winterfell."

They waited until a tall and muscular young man broke into the Hall; he was elegant, handsome and kept a beard.

"Forgive me for the delay, brother and father."

Brandon sat down on the right side of the table, in front of his three younger brothers.

"If you have a plausible explanation for your delay, it will be heard. If you were busy with your duels or useless conquests, I prefer you keep in silence."

Brandon released a long sigh but remained silent.

"Can we start the meal?"

Benjen's question was almost a plea.

Lord Rickard raised his hand and made a sign to the servants to move closer, and they began by dividing the salted pork and mushrooms pie by the five dishes, together with roasted onions, dripped in gravy. While one servant served the cups of Lord Rickard, Brandon and Ned with strong black beer, another served Lyanna with summerwine. They ate in silence. At the end, after the servants have taken the dishes back to the kitchen, and while waiting for the dessert, Lord Rickard asked for the attention of his children.

"Lord Whent, head of House Whent, will host a tournament in his home, at Harrenhal, in the Riverlands, in honor of his daughter."

"And to display his wealth…"

Brandon muttered and Benjen endeavored not to laugh, but Lord Rickard ignored his remark.

"The Tourney will endure for ten days. As you know, I cannot attend. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Therefore, I require the presence of my four children. Brandon will be the representative of House Stark during the Tourney."

"What about me?"

Benjen smiled.

"You are too young and inexperienced to compete against the other Lords. Even Lyanna can beat you with the sword! And your brother Eddard has never been fond of tournaments or competitions."

Lyanna looked at her father and her grey eyes darkened; she knew that Lord Rickard hated her inclination to duels and horse riding.

"Are you sure that my presence is desired in Harrenhal, father?"

Her voice was full with resentment.

"The Champion of the Tourney will appoint the new Queen of Love and Beauty, of all the maidens of Westeros."

"Of course…"

Lyanna smiled with disdain.

"Who knows, sister? Robert Baratheon may be the winner and crown you as Queen of Love and Beauty!"

Brandon joked, but Lyanna was not amused.

"As if it were my desire to be his Queen…"

"You know that I hate when my children mutter, Lyanna."

Lord Rickard's voice was cold as ice.

"I said would feel honored to be Robert Baratheon's Queen of Love and Beauty."

The She-Wolf put emphasis on every word she said.

"I am sure that you would. You will be his wife, after all."

Lyanna felt Ned's hand tighten her own under the table, as a sign that it would be prudent end the conversation at that moment. At the same time, a servant entered with a tin tray with petite yellowish circular cakes.

"Lemon cakes!"

Benjen smiled with enthusiasm, forgetting the tense environment that previously flew in the Great Hall of Winterfell.

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**Notes:**

_**Azor Ahai **_**Prophecy: **Many people believe that the prophecies about Azor Ahai/Nissa Nissa/Lightbringer, The Prince That Was Promised, The Last Hero, and the Stallion That Mounts the World, refers to the same person, but in different cultures. While others, defend that they are different characters. These four prophecies refer a kind of messiah who will save the world from the Others (White Walkers).

**AL:** Meaning _Years after Aegon's Landing._ In Westeros the Calendar is measure by how many years have passed since Aegon I Targaryen (or Aegon the Conqueror) landed in Westeros with his sisters Visenya and Rhaenys. The three Targaryens and their dragons conquered the Seven Kingdoms and founded the ruling Targaryen dynasty of Westeros.

**Moon Tea: **Also known as Tansy Tea. It's a type of herbal tea that is used in Westeros and Beyond the Wall to prevent or abort pregnancies. It is made by maesters or wise women. Its recipe is: flower tansy, mint, wormwood, a spoon of honey, and a drop of pennyroyal.

**Summerwine:** Red wine with a sweet and fruity flavor.

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**Additional notes:**

**Some people date Cersei Lannister's idea of joining Jaime Lannister to the Kingsguard in 280 AL.** Ser Harlan Grandison died in 280 AL, but I find this date impossible. This plan comes across to prevent Jaime's marriage to Lysa Tully. This betrothal was only considered after Lysa Tully's abortion of Petyr Baelish's child, because Lord Hoster Tully was having trouble in arranging her marriage with someone of equal rank, because Lysa was no longer a virgin. Meanwhile, Catelyn Tully was already engaged to Brandon Stark, and Petyr, whom was in love with her, challenged Brandon for her beloved's hand. Brandon wounded Petyr and Lysa offered to nurse him, gets him drunk and has sex with him, and gets pregnant. Lord Hoster forces Lysa to abort the child and sends Petyr Baelish back to the Vale. This only happens in 281 AL, when Brandon visits Riverrun for the first time. Also, it must have been before the Tourney of Harrenhal, because only then Jaime Lannister joins the Kingsguard.

**Maggy the Frog's prophecies:** Maggy (better known as Maggy The Frog) was a witch living in Lannisport, in Casterly Rock, whose son was the founder of House Spicer. Cersei Lannister heard of her magic powers and visited her Tent along with her friends Jeyne Farman and Melara Hetherspoon; two Houses who must obey to their overlords of House Lannister. Jeyne Farman left the when Maggy opened her yellow eyes and didn't hear her future. Maggy initially refused to tell the futures of Cersei and Melara, but grudgingly agreed faced with Cersei's threats and allowed her three questions. Although the two remaining girls mocked Maggy's prophecies, all of them come true. Melara Hetherspoon asked if she would ever marry Jaime Lannister, but the witch told her: _Not Jaime, nor any other man, Worms will have your maidenhead. Your death is here tonight, little one. Can you smell her breath? She is very close_; in fact, that very night Melara drowned, after Cersei pushing her into a well and left her to drown. As for Cersei Lannister, besides predicting her marriage to Robert Baratheon (_You will Wed the King_), Maggy made the Valonqar's prophecy, when Cersei asks if she and the King will have children: _Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds, and when your tears have drowned you, the Valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you. _Maggy the Frog also prophesied about a new Queen of Westeros after Cersei: _Queen you shall be... until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear._ This prophecy haunts Cersei ever since, and may be the reason why she mistreats Sansa Stark (who was supposed to marry Joffrey) and later suspects Margaery Tyrell, who's engaged to be marry to her son, Joffrey, and after his death, plans are made for her to marry Tommen Baratheon, the new King.

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**Hope you enjoyed it and it will be continued.**

**Let me know your opinion!**

**Thank you for the reading.**


	2. The Dragon Prince

**Chapter Two**

_**The Dragon Prince**_

* * *

**Maegor's Holdfast, Red Keep Castle**

**Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen's Chamber**

**King's Landing**

* * *

The lilac countenance of Rhaegar Targaryen was fixed on landscape that stretched through the window of his Chamber. A gentle hand touched him on the shoulder and he turn to face a young woman with dark hair, braided at the back of her neck, where shone a golden tiara, shiny black eyes and olive skin, and wore a long, floating yellow dress that occulted a rounded womb.

"Are you sure you want to come with me, Elia? Your health is delicate, and Harrenhal may seem dark and cold."

His voice was loaded with concern.

"Don't be unstill, my dear. My body may be weak, but my soul is strong. I shall accompany you, as my duty requests."

"Our son will be born in a few months, and I want to make sure that everything is peaceful for you."

Rhaegar planted a small kiss on the forehead of his wife.

"When Rhaenys was born you remained half a year in bed. I don't want that to happen again."

"It won't. Now, don't worry about me, Rhaegar. I'll be fine in Harrenhal. I'll have Lady Ashara Dayne and my dear brother Oberyn to accompany me."

"Your brother will not compete in the Tourney?"

"You know that Oberyn does not like that kind of competitions. You know his temperament and his disdain for swords. He has always preferred spears."

"I would prefer not to compete. But I have an obligation to my House, my father and the Iron Throne."

"You're a great swordsman. You've won several tournaments in the past."

"But my victory is not usual, is it?"

"Maybe this time will be different."

Rhaegar walked through the room and felt a weight on his chest, which was more like emptiness. Its existence was far from his desires; it lacked brightness, as was in the tales he had read. His Chambers were colored in red, silver and black. Little Rhaenys, with her black hair, and dark skin inherited from her mother, was on his bed playing with a black kitten, named Balerion, in honor of the mighty dragon of Aegon I.

"You seem melancholic..."

"It's nothing."

"It is because of the Tourney?"

"The Tourney is a duty that I have to comply with."

The Dragon Prince approached the door.

"I will make a visit to my mother."

"Is that why you're worried?"

"It is also."

Rhaegar utter these words and went out of the room, closing the door behind him. He was scrolling through the halls of the castle towards the Queen's Chambers, when a six-year-old boy, with silver hair and a gaunt face, run in his direction, with joy spread over his face.

"Rhaegar!"

The boy embraced his older brother's legs.

"Viserys!"

"Please, brother, allow me to go with you to the Tourney of Harrenhal! I promise that I will behave."

"You're too young to come with me, Viserys. You shall stay here and take care of mother."

"Why is mother always so sad, Rhaegar? I saw her crying so my many times. I don't know what to do."

Rhaegar observed Viserys with compassion, for he knew that Queen Rhaella hide their father's madness from his young brother.

"Show her how much you love her and she'll smile."

"I'm always wondering if I did something to upset her."

"You haven't done anything wrong. Mother has other issues that are causing her anxiety. It is not your fault."

"You'll visit her, now?"

"Aye. Is she in her Chambers?"

The boy waved positively with his silver head.

"Elia is in my Chambers with Rhaenys. Also there is Balerion, it is not a dragon, but is a fierce feline. You can wait for me there."

Viserys smiled and ran into the hallway, while Rhaegar traveled to the opposite direction.

* * *

**Riverrun Castle**

**Lysa Tully's Chambers**

**Riverlands**

* * *

Lysa Tully was lying in fetal position in her bed, with tears rolling down her face, and her arms wrapped around her womb, as if she was sure that the blood would be halted if she crushed the stomach with force. She felt an enormous emptiness inside and it was not an effect of the tea that her father, Hoster Tully, told her to drink, without saying what it was.

She recalled the nights spent with Petyr Baelish, and his departure from Riverrun only increased her sorrow. Lysa remembered when she offered him her maidenhead, after Catelyn Tully jested about his feelings, and when she healed Petyr's wounds after the almost lethal duel with Brandon Stark, and both times Lysa had given him wine and usurped Petyr Baelish's bed.

"Lysa?"

The voice of Catelyn Tully echoed in the Chamber.

"Sister?"

"Shouldn't you be making preparations to attend the Tourney of Harrenhal?"

The hostile voice came from a misshapen volume in the bed.

"I'm not going to the Tourney."

Catelyn closed the door behind her.

"Your noble betrothal will be there. Shouldn't you go and spend your day's arm-in-arm with the honorable Lord Brandon Stark?"

"Lysa… How are you feeling, sister?"

"Why should you care about how I'm feeling?

Lysa looked at her sister; her eyelids were swollen, which deformed her face, her auburn hair was soiled and falling down her back.

"You are my sister. I shall remain here and take care of you."

Catelyn's voice sounded assertive for the first time since she entered the room.

"The tea that father obliged me to drink destroyed my bowels! It ripped my son out of my womb!"

Lysa's blue eyes were prominent and gave her an air of insanity, and her voice sounded clangorous and trembling.

"He loves me, I know it… He doesn't love you, Cat! He told you that he loves you, but that's untrue! I heard it… And I heard you laughing of his confession… But it's me that he loves. I was the one that received his seed in my womb! Me! I was the one he kissed with greater passion in our childhood. It was me with whom he laid twice!"

"Who is that you're talking about? Petyr?"

"My Petyr Baelish! That your betrothal almost murdered if had not been for my care! When I got pregnant, I thought father... I thought that I could finally wed Petyr! That's the only reason why I told father!"

"Father only ensures our interests."

Lysa unleashed a laugh of scorn.

"Father only ensures his own interests, Cat!"

"Lysa, you could never wed Petyr. How would he take care of you? He was born in a small House, with little gold."

"Why should I care about his born rights or the gold that he has? I love him! And I know that he loves me… Even when I filled his stomach with wine, and lied down on him, and he whispered your name! You… The beautiful and graceful Catelyn Tully! Whom was always been the greater treasure for all!"

"I've never nourish more feelings by Petyr than those that you have for a brother. And he knows it."

"You bust his heart, but I was there to comfort him. He has to love me… Not you!"

Catelyn has moved closer to the bed, and tried to cover her sister with a blanket, but she walked away from her arms.

"You need to rest, Lysa."

Lysa had tears forming in her eyes.

"I don't need to rest, I need Petyr! Where is he? Where is the father of my son?"

Catelyn caressed her sister's weeping face and combed her auburn hair.

"Lysa, you're out of yourself."

"They murdered my son in my own womb! Where is Petyr Baelish?"

"You know that he went away from Riverrun."

Lysa looked at Catelyn as if she had seen her for the first time. She observed the features of her sister's face, which were a more enhanced version of her own; the haughtiness and grace of her pose, and her long fingers, even if they had the same blue eyes and auburn hair.

"Those words are easy for you to say, Catelyn. You've always been everyone's favorite. You'll wed the heir of Winterfell, and he's handsome and brave."

"I'll wed Lord Brandon Stark as my duty commands."

"And with whom will I wed? The only man with whom I wish to pair was been sent away."

"I've heard that father is planning your marriage with Jaime Lannister. I've heard that he's a handsome young man, and he just had been knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne."

Lysa looked at her and then dropped her head on her sister's lap, and Catelyn started stroking her hair.

* * *

**Maegor's Holdfast, Red Keep Castle**

**Queen Rhaella Targaryen's Chamber**

**King's Landing**

* * *

"Mother?"

Rhaella Targaryen was lying in bed, covered with dark red sheets of silk. Her long hair was falling off the cushion, as a cascade of liquid silver, next to her beautiful face, and her white skin, almost translucent, was marked by purple stains.

"My dear son. Come sit beside me, Rhaegar."

The Dragon Prince walked toward the bed and sat beside his mother. She observed her eldest son and her dark lilac eyes had a sadness that was hard to bear.

"I've found Viserys on my way here."

"My petite jewel."

"Are you interested in attending the Tourney of Harrenhal, mother?"

"No, my dear. I will stay here, at King's Landing, with your brother."

The Queen caressed her son's face and noticed his countenance to darken.

"You look so melancholic, my son. You have visited the ruins of Summerhall recently, haven't you?"

"You know that is my favorite place, mother… Is where I create my best music."

"But that place leaves you so poignant, Rhaegar."

"It also gives me great joy."

"But go there alone…"

"Don't be concerned, mother. Summerhall was where I was born. And I take pleasure in sleeping in the ruined hall, beneath the moon and the stars, with no other company than my harp."

"But it's such a severe environment. The tragic memories that those ruins hold… I remember as well as if it had been yesterday, that horrible fire… in the day that you were born. You've always had a strange fascination with Summerhall, Rhaegar. I and your father always believed that this tragedy either heralded or contributed to your birth."

"Born of fire… As a true dragon."

"Don't waste your life in an insane pursuit of dragons, Rhaegar. Many of our ancestors lost their lives in the hope of breeding dragons once more. None have been able to… Most of them died trying to… The fire that destroyed Summerhall on the night you were born was the result of another of these attempts.

"I'm not trying to breed dragons, mother, if that's what concerns you."

"You have always been my special boy. During your childhood you held your books so preciously that you had no interest in playing with other children. Do you remember? The People of Westeros even jested that I had swallowed some books and a candle while you were in my womb! As a child you used to impress the maesters with your wit. Your father's knights even said you were Baelor, The Blessed, reborn! You will be a great King…

Rhaella laughed for the first time.

"See you laughing brings warmth to my heart, mother."

Suddenly, the jovial semblance of the Queen was darkened.

"You are no longer a child, Rhaegar. You're a grown-up man with wife and children. I know that you realize what is happening to your father."

"Father became suspicious of everyone. And this Lord Varys only contributes to increasing his madness. I do not trust him."

"One day, you will be King, my son. And not even Lord Varys can prevent it. He vowed himself to the service of the Crown and the House Targaryen. And even the Smallfolk loves you…"

Rhaegar smiled placidly, but his gaze remained lost.

"But it's not Summerhall, not your father, that concerns you, is it? What troubles you?"

"Nothing. Nothing important."

"You are my son. I believe I know you better than most."

"Elia wants to accompany me to the Tourney of Harrenhal. Taking into account her condition, I do not think that is the most reasonable thing to do."

"Her pregnancy?"

"Aye. And her health has never been strong."

"But the small Rhaenys is… A beautiful girl."

"My daughter shall remain at King's Landing. I will not allow Elia or anyone to take her to the turmoil of a Lord's tournament."

"And your willingness to attend this Tourney also is not much."

"It is my duty to go. While Crown Prince I have many obligations to meet."

"Observe this Tourney as a change to rest. Besides, you have always been a great knight."

Rhaegar smiled, but inside there was something that cramp relief, which does not let him feel satisfied with the presence of Elia Martell in Harrenhal, a place to which she was not accustomed, and which could worsen her state of health and put at risk the birth of his second child.

* * *

**Great Hall, Red Keep Castle**

**King's Landing**

* * *

"All hail His Grace, Aerys of House Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

A tall and lean figure walked towards the throne; his silver hair fall by his back, in wild tangles, and his long beard was unwashed, he wore a black and scarlet cloak, and his fingernails resemble yellow claws and his face was marked by cavities. At the top of his head, laid a heavy golden crown, festooned by sculpted dragons, whose eyes were precious stones; the crown of Aegon IV, the Unworthy. King Aerys II sat on the Iron Throne with caution and concern of the sharp edges of the throne, where he cut himself several times, and whose scars scratched in his skeletal hands.

"Lady Cersei of House Lannister, Your Grace."

Cersei made a bow to the King.

"Your Grace."

"You asked for a meeting with me."

The King spoke with suspicion.

"I did, Your Grace."

"And what do you want with me, Lady Lannister?"

"I'm here to talk about my brother, Jaime Lannister."

"My confidence in House Lannister has weakened over the years."

"My father always served you loyally, Your Grace."

"What makes you so sure of that? You're nothing more than the daughter of my servant. What do you know about loyalty?"

"You are right, Your Grace. Forgive my arrogance. You are superiorly wiser than I ever will be."

Cersei's voice trembled in anger, but she endeavored to sound true.

"A truth, at last! However, I have a breadth of issues with more priority. What is it that you want to talk about your brother?"

"My brother has just returned from a campaign against the Kingswood Brotherhood, where he fought with bravery and was knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne."

"Aye. Carry on…"

"Your knight of Kingsguard, Ser Harlan Grandison passed away, with great sorrow…"

"I understand where you want to reach, girl…"

"My brother would be an added value in the Kingsguard."

"It is all you have to tell me?"

"Aye, Your Grace."

Cersei stared at the King, waiting for a response, but she only found the same facetious look that years ago refused her the opportunity to wed Rhaegar Targaryen.

"You may go."

"Your Grace?"

Cersei felt her blood bubbling.

"You have the audacity to demand an immediate response on the part of the King?"

"Never, Your Grace."

"I will consider your proposal with my Council."

These words made Cersei's body to tremble, by the fear of her father discovering that she was the one who had proposed the idea to the King, an idea that winds all Tywin Lannister's plans.

"I thought your father had plans to cement an alliance with House Tully, through the marriage of his only male heir."

"It would be a waste of talent if my brother Jaime wed precisely now, when he had just began to demonstrate his knight skills."

"Truly… You may go, now. When my decision is made, I will find a way for you to get the answer."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

Cersei bowed and withdrew from the Great Hall, with her heart beating mercilessly on her breast. There was sure that she had managed, but the loose ends of uncertainty made her shiver.

King Aerys II has shifted his gaze away from the scarlet shade that departed from the Hall and asked for one of the knights to call Lord Varys. Shortly after, a fat and bald man appeared, dressed in purple, and he seemed to slide in the mosaic of the Great Hall, without the lower noise.

"Leave! All of you! I want you all out of here!"

The King commanded, while Varys knelt by his right side.

"Is Your Grace interested in attending to the Tourney of Harrenhal?"

"No! I have more important matters to deal with than go to a tedious Lord's tournament!"

"Perhaps you should reconsider that point of view, Your Grace."

"What do you mean, Lord Varys?"

"My little birds have told me something very interesting. That your eldest son, the Crown Prince Rhaegar, arranged the tournament as a pretext to meet with several high Lords with the purpose of discussing the removal of Your Grace from the Iron Throne."

"Is that so?"

King Aerys II stroked his beard with disdain and hatred growing in his face.

"Aye, Your Grace. And almost every major House of Westeros is confirmed for the Tourney."

His countenance darkened and spoke with a soft yet deadly voice.

"It seems that I will have to go to the Tourney of Harrenhal, after all."

"Wise decision, Your Grace. We never know where our foes lie, and precisely now, when there is an enemy in each corner."

"I'm aware of this, Lord Varys. And I am grateful for your loyal services to my crown."

"I'm your most loyal servant, Your Grace."

"Rhaegar… My own son trying to betray me… This is Rhaella's doing, I am sure. I will deal with her later."

"The enemy lies everywhere. Even your Hand, Tywin Lannister, cannot be trusted."

"I've know that for many years, Lord Varys. But the solution to put the Lannister in his place has come from the unexpected; from his own daughter."

"How so, Your Grace?"

"Cersei Lannister has requested a meeting with me, she left just now. She came to propose the joining of her brother, and heir to Casterly Rock, to Kingsguard."

"And, Your Grace, eventually, understood the possibilities of such proposal."

"Certainly. With Jaime Lannister in Kingsguard, Casterly Rock loses its only heir. The child that was born a few years ago is malformed. Tywin Lannister learns its place, a thing he should have learned a long time ago…"

* * *

**Riverlands**

**King's Road**

* * *

The four Stark brothers had left Winterfell on their path to Harrenhal a few days ago. Brandon, Ned and Lyanna rode in front of the carriage, where the small Benjen slept, and where they kept their luggage. The heavy cloaks of the Starks began to become feverish when they entered the Riverlands and the temperature had begun to rise. The dawn broke in the heavens in colorations of pink and blue, and the morning breeze stroke against the tired face of the three riders.

"Are you sure you don't want to rest in the carriage, Lyanna? Benjen is asleep, but there is space for you."

Ned's voice sounded tired and concerned.

"If you'll ask her that again, she will answer something that you'll regret."

Brandon laughed.

"In certain aspects, Brandon knows me better than you, Ned."

"This is a long journey and you can be tired of riding…"

"Brandon?"

Lyanna ignored Ned's defense and turned to her older brother.

"Aye, sister?"

"You're tired or you're ready for a race?"

"Are you challenging me?"

Brandon raised his eyebrows.

"I am."

"Don't you even think…"

But Ned's warning was interrupted by Lyanna's scream marking the beginning of the race. The She-Wolf rode swiftly in front of the Wild Wolf, that followed her, while whipping the reins, and Ned was being left behind with the carriage.

"Lyanna! Brandon! Wait!"

But the two brothers did not hear his interjections of concern, and rode down King's Road, in a race that had Lyanna as the winner.

"Why is that you won't rest, Brandon? You seem more tired than me!"

Ned heard his sister's provocation and laugh far ahead.

* * *

**Notes:**

**Smallfolk**: Are the common people of Westeros, similar to peasants. They are at the bottom of the social ladder and have to obey their local Lord. They don't have surnames, and often name their daughters after flowers and herbs.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it and it will be continued.**

**Let me know your opinion!**

**Thank you for the reading.**


	3. Tourney of Harrenhal

**Chapter Three**

_**Tourney of Harrenhal**_

* * *

**Opening Day of the Tourney**

**Castle of Harrenhal**

**Riverlands**

* * *

Lyanna walked toward the outside of the Tent and breathe in the fresh air of the morning. Her brothers had gone out earlier, and the Lord's Camp, located in the Flowstone Yard, was full of tents and of good disposition, with old friends greeting each other. Around the high stone walls, discolored and deformed due to the fiery breath of the Targaryen dragons during the War of Conquest centuries before, there was a hall, forming a gallery, where walked small groups of people, which certainly belong to the royal court. The weather of Harrenhal was not as cold or how dark as Winterfell, but the castle breathed ghostly.

Lyanna reached the Main Gate, which was silent apart of a few men that sharpen their swords. A scene captured her attention; three boys in armor were around a petite young man, with bright green eyes and brown hair, wearing clothes also greenish, and they were kicking him. She recognized the small young man as an inhabitant of the North, of the crannogmen that inhabit the swamps of the Neck. Taken by a wave of anger, the She-Wolf took the sword of a man, ignoring his interjections, and walked in the direction of the abusers.

"What do you think you are doing? That's my father's man you're kicking!"

Lyanna wielded the sword towards the boys.

"Oh… What do we have here? The damsel came rescue the mud man!"

A squire, who wore a silver-grey sigil with two blue towers united by a bridge, laughed with scorn.

"My name is Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. And you are attacking a man of the North."

"Lower that sword, darling. You probably don't even know how to use it."

The other squire mocked; he displayed a coat of arms with a black pitchfork on a golden bar sinister on russet.

"Do you want me to prove you otherwise, squire?"

Lyanna provoked, pointing the sword to the second's squire throat.

"Get out of here, girl. I don't use my weapons against women, but your provocations are angering me."

The third squire advised; his coat of arms was green with a red bend sinister between two black porcupines.

"You don't fight with women? Why? Are you afraid?"

The squire drew his sword and launched it on Lyanna that blocked with the blade of her sword, and with another blow threw the third's squire sword away. The other two squires ran on the young Stark, but she defended their attacks with ease. After disarming the first squire, Lyanna attacked the second one, whom had said she didn't know who to handle a sword. She kicked him in the chest and the boy fell back on the stone floor, Lyanna pointed the blade to his throat.

"Leave. And if you return to bother this man, I will not leave you to go unharmed."

The squire stood up with fear spread around his face, then joined the other two boys, and went back to the Lord's Camp, running.

"Cowards…"

"Lady Lyanna…"

The young man was leaning against the wall, with a hand on his arm, and his face was bloodied, with small cuts on the cheek and on the lip.

"I'm so grateful, Milady…"

"What's your name?"

"Howland of House Reed."

"I recognized you as a northerner. From the region of the Neck, I am right?"

"Aye. House Reed from Greywater Watch, southwest of Moat Cailin. We are indeed sworn to House Stark of Winterfell."

Howland's face frozen while looking over Lyanna's shoulder. She felt a presence behind her back, and drew her sword that was locked by the silver blade of a tall and elegant young man, with long silver hair and dark lilac eyes, all dressed in black; he had the most beautiful face that a man could ever have. Under his arm, the mysterious man was carrying a heavy book.

"You are very skilled with the blade, Milady."

The young woman gazed at him, breathless by the surprise.

"Thank you, Ser…"

Lyanna lowered her sword, and the young man did the same. He looked over his shoulder and saw two tall women, both majestically dressed, but while one had olive skin and wore a golden tiara in her black hair, the other one had fair skin and dressed in purple, but her beauty blinded all jewelry that the other woman carried. The mysterious man smiled at Lyanna, made a small reverence with his head, and went towards the two women that clearly belong to the royal family.

"Come with me, Lord Howland. I will take care of your wounds and introduce you to my brothers."

Lyanna placed her arm around Howland's shoulders and led him to the Starks Tent, and asked him to sit down on a chair, while she was searching for strips of linen and hot water for the injuries.

"You are very kind, Lady Lyanna. I couldn't ever thank you enough."

Lyanna was tying up the linen around his arm.

"My actions are the same as any honorable person."

They remained in silence until Lyanna have finished washing the wounds. The image of the mysterious man appeared in her mind several times. She had never seen such hair or eyes of that tone. This is the first time she had left the North, and she realized how little she knows of the world.

* * *

Brandon, Ned and Benjen walked in, they were talking about something with great enthusiasm, although Ned was advising Brandon that he shouldn't speak of such matters in the presence of their younger brother.

"Where have you been?"

"Where have you been, sister? You've missed the arrival of the King and the Crown Prince."

Brandon looked at Howland Reed with suspicion.

"You've also missed the oath rite of the White Swords! Jaime Lannister received his Kingsguard white cloak from Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander himself! He's the youngster knight ever to be raised to the Kingsguard!"

Benjen seemed extremely thrilled with the events.

"I thought that was the Hand of the King who gives the Kingsguard's white cloak to the new sworn brothers."

Lord Howland spoke for the first time since the three Starks entered the Tent.

"Lord Tywin resigned as Hand of the King. He's in his way to Casterly Rock, by now. Apparently, the Lannister wasn't pleased with the raising of his older son and heir to the Kingsguard. And who are you?"

Brandon cornered against a wooden beam of the Tent and crossed his arms.

"Lord Howland belongs to House Reed of Greywater Watch. He is a son of the North, and pays allegiance to our House. I met him at the Main Gate, and he was being beaten by three squires, some cowards without honor… I've been here taking care of his injuries."

"Who were the squires?"

Brandon's semblance darkened.

"I do not know their names, just their coats of arms. But after our friendly exchange, they won't return attacking Lord Reed."

Howland exchanged a smile with Lyanna.

"This is Eddard, but we all call him Ned, the youngest is Benjen, and our elder brother and heir to Winterfell, Brandon."

The Starks greeted the crannogman.

"The _Quiet Wolf_, the _Pup_, the _Wild Wolf_ and the _She-Wolf_… That's how they call you in the North"

"Why am I the pup?"

Benjen protested.

"Because you are the youngest of the pack."

Brandon patted his little brother's head.

"Lord Howland, I would like you to accompany us to the Opening Feast of the Tourney, tonight."

"Oh… no, I think I can't attend the Feast, Milady..."

"Why not? You are a highborn and have as much right to attend as any other Lord."

"I don't even have a proper garment to wear …"

"Don't worry, Lord Reed. I'll find a suitable garb for you to wear!"

Benjen spoke with a smile, while Howland Reed putted his clothes on.

"Now you'll have to go with us to the Opening Feast!"

Lyanna smiled to Howland Reed.

* * *

**East Gate**

**Castle of Harrenhal**

* * *

"I could not believe when your father, the King, confirmed his coming to the Tourney, Prince Rhaegar!"

Lord Whent spoke with enthusiasm, while he and Rhaegar Targaryen walked the halls of the Castle.

"He didn't leave the Red Keep for many years, is it not?"

"Aye. Five years."

"Since that dreadful incident at Duskendale. Terrible, terrible… And your mother? I confess that I was surprised with the coming of your father, but the Queen did not give us the honor of her presence..."

"My mother has chosen to stay at King's Landing with my younger brother, and my daughter."

"Most of the members of the Kingsguard will be at the Tourney, guarding the King. It is wise to leave the Queen and the two children without protection?"

"Jaime Lannister returned to King's Landing with that purpose, Lord Whent."

"Very well. This will be a legendary Tourney, Prince Rhaegar! They will write about the Tourney of Harrenhal in the pages of the History of Westeros, I'm certain of it!"

_"What is that you have so much to talk about with this man, my son?"_

King Aerys II spoke in Valyrian, while walking toward Rhaegar and Lord Whent, accompanied by Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of Kingsguard.

"_We are talking about the Tourney, father."_

"_Does a Lord's tournament has so much to talk about?"_

The King seemed suspicious, while Lord Whent looked at the two with confusion.

"_Our host, Lord Whent, was saying that he's honored with your presence in Harrenhal, but disappointed because my mother couldn't attend." _

There was a moment of palpable tension between father and son.

"Please, forgive the interruption… But I don't understand a single word of what you're saying, Your Graces!"

Lord Whent laughed awkwardly.

"We are speaking in Valyrian, Lord Whent… The mother tongue of House Targaryen."

"I did not know that the most recent Targaryen lineage knew how to speak Valyrian! Remarkable…"

"Your Grace. Prince Rhaegar…"

Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, appeared and bowed to the royals. The knight was tall and well-muscular, but gracious, with dark lilac eyes, and dressed in the white cloaks of Kingsguard. In his waist, there was Dawn, the ancestral and legendary sword of House Dayne.

"Princess Elia is expecting you at her Chambers."

"Very well… I shall see you later, Lord Whent. I appreciate your hospitality. Father…"

Rhaegar made a small reverence with his head and followed Ser Arthur Dayne through the halls of the Castle of Harrenhal.

"What a beautiful day for the Opening Ceremony!"

"Aye, it is, Prince Rhaegar."

"What's your opinion of Harrenhal, so far?"

"Dark."

The two men laughed.

"Extraordinary what the fire of the dragons of Aegon, the Conqueror, did to these stones! Harrenhal is the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms, build of a man's greed and the blood of his slaves. Aegon I rode Balerion, the Dread, and burned Lord Harren the Black and his sons, alive in the Kingspyre Tower…"

"Some say the castle of Harrenhal is haunted."

"And do you believe it, Ser Arthur?"

"I think the people of Westeros still fear Harren Hoare, King of the Iron Islands and the Riverlands, whose cruelty had become legendary over the years."

"They say Harren mixed human blood into the mortar for the stonework, and made a curse to prevent any Lord from holding Harrenhal indefinitely. The Houses that held this castle didn't met happy endings, did they?"

"With all due respect, you've always been fond of superstitions and prophecies, Prince Rhaegar."

The Dragon Prince laughed.

"You know me better than most, Ser Arthur! Harren sacrificed so many lives during forty eyes to build the castle that would end up being his doom. He thought his fortress was impregnable, but he wasn't accounting with the dragons."

* * *

Rhaegar and Ser Arthur arrived at Elia Martell's Chambers; they opened the door and saw Elia accompanied by Lady Ashara Dayne, contemplating the landscape through the narrow and obscure window.

"Dornish summerwine is much better than this. Much sweeter."

Prince Oberyn Martell was sitting upon the bed, with a chalice in his hands; he was a young man with olive skin, a linen face with thin eyebrows, black eyes and a sharp nose, his dark hair is lustrous and he dressed in reddish tones.

"I was beginning to wonder about where you were, Rhaegar."

Elia faced her husband.

"I was having a small conversation with Lord Whent. He seemed surprised with the presence of my father in the Tourney."

"Lord Whent was very generous in supplying us with such accommodations."

"I find the castle of Harrenhal rather depressing… So dark and lifeless…"

"Brother!"

"Will you deny it, sister? I've only came here because you ask me to. The Whents use only the lower thirds of two of the five towers! They allow the rest go to ruin… They say many places in the castle have not been entered in decades. There is so much decay to explore here! I've heard that bats infest the tops of some of the towers."

"Do you believe this place is haunted, Prince Oberyn? Ser Arthur and I were wondering about it."

"I believe this place was built upon madness and murder. I've always preferred things build upon passion and desire…"

Oberyn drank a large gulp of wine.

"I haven't seen Lord Tywin today… Where is he? Shouldn't he be celebrating the raising of his son to Kingsguard? I've heard you knighted the young Lannister a few moons ago, Ser Arthur, is it true?"

"Aye, I did."

"Let us hope that he has more nobility than his father."

"Brother…"

Elia and Oberyn exchange glances, but the Prince of Dorne was amused.

"He wanted to wed you to that cripple child of his… Why is that, sister? Did the Lannister think you were not worth of his heir to Casterly Rock? Don't be constrained, Prince Rhaegar… Everyone says that I've always been half-mad, but no one is fool enough to tread me."

* * *

**Notes:**

**Lord Tywin Lannister resigning as Hand of the King:** I've read people claiming that Tywin Lannister resigned as Hand of King Aerys II because of his wife Joanna Lannister and the apparent "liberties" the Mad King took during the bedding ritual when the men at the Wedding Feast had to disrobe the bride. Tywin loved his wife and they had a happy marriage, he even smiled during their wedding, and probably he was already Aerys's Hand by the time he married Joanna. It is said that the best part of Tywin died with her. In 262 AL Tywin Lannister is named Hand of the King, the twins Cersei and Jaime Lannister born in 266 AL and in 267 AL Tywin inherited the lordship of Casterly Rock. Yes, it would be quite romantic if Tywin resigned because of his beloved wife… but Joanna Lannister died in 274 AL, after giving birth to Tyrion Lannister, and Tywin Lannister only resigned as Hand of the King in 281 AL, after King Aerys nominated his son, Jaime Lannister, part of the Kingsguard. The relationship between Tywin and Aerys II has been growing weaker from a long time; during Tywin and Joanna's wedding the King said it was a pity that the first night tradition had been abolished (therefore he couldn't have sex with Joanna) and in 278 AL King Aerys mocked Tywin when he said he would like to marry his daughter, Cersei, with his son Rhaegar. When the King names Jaime Lannister part of the Kingsguard, Tywin's plans of forming an alliance with House Tully are ruined, because the Knights of Kingsguard can't have wives or children. Therefore, Tywin Lannister sees this was as a plan from Aerys for robbing him from his heir. This leads Tywin to resign as Hand of the King and returning to Casterly Rock with her daughter Cersei Lannister, while Jaime remains in King's Landing.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it and it will be continued.**

**Let me know your opinion!**

**Thank you for the reading.**


	4. A Weeping Wolf at The Feast

**Chapter Four**

_**A Weeping Wolf at The Feast**_

* * *

**Opening Feast of the Tourney**

**Gardens of the Castle of Harrenhal**

* * *

The Feast was filled with Lords of different regions of Westeros, and they talked, ate and drank excitedly, around the various tables, filled with rich food and expensive wines, there were several dishes for disposal. The atmosphere was festive and jovial. At the top bottom, there was the royal table, where the King, the Crown Prince, his wife and chamber maid, the Princes of Dorne and Lord and Lady Whent, sat.

Brandon, Benjen and Howland Reed were sitting at the Starks table. Lyanna and Ned joined them.

"Good evening, brothers. Lord Reed."

"Good evening, Lady Lyanna."

"I'm glad you came to join us."

"It's hard to refuse an invitation from you, Lady Stark."

Howland Reed bowed.

The smile upon Lyanna's features vanished when she recognized the three young cowards.

"Brothers! Those were the three squires who bullied Lord Reed this morning."

Lyanna pointed at the three youngsters.

"I recognize their coats of arms. The two towers is the sigil of House Frey, the pitchfork is House Haigh, and the porcupine is House Blount. They must be the squires of their Lords."

Brandon said.

"I will find you a horse and armor, and you shall avenger yourself at the Tourney!"

Benjen proposed.

"Oh, no, no… I'm no knight, Lord Stark… And I'm not used to horses and lances. My pride demands vengeance but… I'm afraid of losing and making a fool out of myself. It would only bring shame to my people."

"But you have to take your revenge, Lord Reed!"

"I have no training in jousting, Lord Benjen… What would be the point of me fighting these Lords if my defeat is certain?"

"Don't you worry, Lord Reed… We shall think about something."

Lyanna smiled and caressed Howland Reed's shoulder.

"Good evening, Lords Stark!"

A Night's Watch member spoke behind them; he was dressed all in black, like he was demand to.

"What are you doing here, so far away from Castle Black?"

Brandon looked upon him.

"Recruiting!"

"Are you so desperate at the Wall, you need to come to Harrenhal in search of new watchers?"

"Aye, Lord Brandon! Well, and it's not every day we leave the Wall! Especially not this far South."

"Would you like to join us?"

"Aye, I would, Lord Eddard. Unfortunately, duty calls and I must make a round and ask if someone's interested in taking the black."

"Good luck with that!"

"Thank you, Lord Brandon. Farewell."

* * *

**Fortress of Casterly Rock**

**Westerlands**

* * *

Cersei was erupting in a silent rage when she and Tywin Lannister enter the Fortress of Casterly Rock. Her plan was destroyed by her father's decision to resign as Hand of the King. She was naïve to believe that Tywin would stand by King Aerys II as he raised Jaime Lannister to the Kingsguard.

Kevan Lannister was expecting his elder brother and her niece, at the Lion's Mouth.

"Good evening."

"Good evening, uncle."

Cersei forced to smile.

"Cersei, leave."

Tywin command.

"Father, I…"

"Leave. Go to your chambers and stay there until I say otherwise."

Tywin voice was strict and Cersei felt her inside bursting with rage, but manage to stay in control, and left the room.

"How dare that old madman to make me such injury? Steal my sole heir by putting him in the Kingsguard."

"You still have Tyrion."

Kevan's voice was encouraging.

"Tyrion? That monstrous creature that murdered by beloved Joanna?"

"You can't possibly blame your son for that."

"He is not my son! The only reason I didn't throw him off the cliffs of the Rock was because of our family. And I value family above all. Aerys stealing Jaime from me will have repercussions. But Varys will take precautions about it."

"Lord Varys? The bald and fat eunuch from Essos?"

"He's the Master of Whisperers of the small council. He has spies everywhere."

"Do you think the proposal of raising Jaime to the Kingsguard was his doing?"

"Almost certainly. Varys never trusted me or the Lannisters. This all plot was his doing, I'm certain of it."

"Is it possible that it was Aerys own decision to raise Jaime to the Kingsguard to take revenge of you, brother? After all, Jaime is Joanna's son. And we both know how Aerys desired her."

"Never mention that in front of me, again!"

"It is a possibility, brother! We know that he did to Joanna in your Wedding Feast, the liberties he took."

"Silence, Kevan! I don't want to remember it!"

Tywin was very much aware of Aerys II's lust for Joanna Lannister. And at the Wedding Feast, the drunkenly King japed about how it was a pity the first night tradition was banned, therefore Aerys couldn't bed Joanna. And during the Bedding Ritual, when the men at the Feast had to disrobe the bride, the King took «certain liberties» with her, while Tywin was forced to remain quite.

* * *

**Opening Feast of the Tourney**

**Gardens of the Castle of Harrenhal**

* * *

Brandon Stark was talking with a woman of great beauty; tall and slender, with long dark hair and haunting violet eyes, dressed in purple. She was Ashara Dayne, the younger sister of Ser Arthur Dayne, and lady-in-waiting of Princess Elia Martell. In that night, she had danced with her brother, with Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne and with Jon Connington, Lord of Griffin's Roost.

"Are you the one who is known as _The Wild Wolf_, Lord Brandon?"

"Aye, I am."

"A dangerous title, isn't it?"

"They say that matches my temperament! Have you met my young brother, Eddard?"

"No, I haven't."

"Ned! Come here, brother!"

The Quiet Wolf heard the calling and looked at his old brother with embarrassment, while Benjen laughed from Ned's reaction. Lyanna, who was lost in a lively conversation with Howland Reed, was unaware of the situation around her. The young man stood up from the table and walked towards his eldest brother.

"I believe you weren't introduced to Lady Ashara of House Dayne, younger sister of Ser Arthur. This is my brother, Ned Stark."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Eddard."

Ashara nodded her head with grace.

"The honor is all mine."

Ned blushed and Brandon laughed.

"My brother is quite shy, Lady Ashara… Why won't you dance with him?"

"I would be delighted to."

Ashara offered her hand to Ned.

"Don't be afraid, brother. I'm sure Lady Ashara is a marvelous dancer."

The trembling Ned accepted her hand, leading her to the center, where they started an introverted and respectable dance. Brandon launched a last gaze at Ashara Dayne's shape and returned to the Starks table, with a light smile on his lips.

"If it wasn't for me, Ned would be here, dying of boredom! What about you, sister? Why won't you dance with your betrothal?"

"I don't feel like dancing, brother. And if I would dance, it wouldn't be with Robert Baratheon, that's for sure…"

"He's your future husband, Lyanna… You'll have to get used to his presence."

"You are betrothal to Lady Catelyn Tully, but that doesn't prevent you from fooling around with pretty faces!"

Meanwhile the music stopped and the pairs cease the dance. When Brandon was about to answer Lyanna's provocation, Lord Whent called for attention.

"And now, dear guests, Ladies and Lords of Westeros, please applaud our next performer… Ser Rhaegar of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, and heir to the Iron Throne!"

When Lord Whent finished his introduction, the entire Feast applauded.

"Prince Rhaegar will give us the honor to listen to one of his beautiful harp melodies."

A tall and handsome young man, with long silver hair and a noble and graceful pose, arose from the royal table and walked towards a wooden chair, where he seated. A servant carried an incredibly crafted black harp; with dragons flying over the chords with bright rubies craved into their eyes. Prince Rhaegar was a vision, with a melancholic aura around him, for some say he was born in grief. His long fingers slid by the harp's string, producing a beautiful but gloomy melody. The Lords and Ladies fell silent to listen to the harp's lament.

Lyanna observed Rhaegar Targaryen and felt stunned to recognize the mysterious man who had praised her sword's skills in that same afternoon. The eyes of the Prince run across the multitude, and his stare fell on Lyanna; his gaze was profound but charming, and his song was so poignant that the She-Wolf felt a knot forming in her throat and emptiness in her stomach, despite the stuffed Feast, and a tear flowed on her face.

"Lyanna… Are you crying!?"

Benjen whispered with scorn, and the young woman was so furious by her younger brother's observation have interrupted the moment, that she held her chalice and pour the wine over his head, leaving Benjen soaked and stinking of alcohol.

"Lyanna!"

Ned censured her behavior, while Brandon tried to avoid laughing.

"You'll pay for this, sister!"

"Oh, hold your tongue, you little brat!"

"We'll discuss this matter later. It's not proper being whispering while Prince Rhaegar is performing his music. Now, be quiet… The both of you!"

Ned had the final word, and the Starks table remained silent until the Dragon Prince finished his performance.

* * *

Ashara Dayne left the royal table and walked towards the exterior of the Feast, and Brandon followed her. When they were far away enough not to be heard, Brandon called her with an amused provocation:

"Do you think you can run away from me?"

"Do you think it is proper for a Lady to be alone with a Lord like you?"

"A Lord like me?"

Brandon laughed.

"A _Wild Wolf_."

"I've heard many men are in love with you… It's no wonder why."

"I didn't discern you to be a rumor's man, Lord Brandon."

"You don't know me, Lady Ashara."

Brandon recalled, coming closer to her.

"You're right… I do not know you, Lord Stark. Perhaps, we can get to know each other. But… in another night. I'm tired and Princess Elia is waiting for me."

Ashara prepared to return her path, when Brandon gently grabbed her hand.

"Yes, Lord Stark?"

"I would be honored to know you better, Lady Ashara. But go, if you must."

Ashara smiled and broke free from his hand.

"There are still nine days to know one another better."

The beautiful woman smiled and turned her back on Brandon Stark, continuing her way to Elia Martell's room.

* * *

Robert Baratheon has started a drinking competition against Ser Richard Lonmouth, close personal friend and former squire of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. They filled their chalices with the best wine of the Riverlands, and drank it with one gulp, surrounded by roars of encouragement. Lyanna, to her misfortune, had been forced to remain close to Robert Baratheon, who led the competition for two chalices ahead of Ser Richard.

"If you excuse me, I'll return to the Tent…"

Lyanna spoke with contempt.

"No, no, no! My future wife shall stay and behold her betrothal winning this competition!"

Robert's laugher echoed by the space, causing some Lords, who spoke serenely in tables more ahead, to look at him with disregard. The scene between the drunk Robert Baratheon and Lyanna Stark caught Rhaegar Targaryen's attention, who was sitting at the royal table, accompanied by his father, the King, by Prince Oberyn and Ser Lewyn Martell, Princess Elias's uncle, who were talking about the Tourney.

"Do not force me to be rude, Lord Robert…"

Lyanna's voice was harsh.

"My beautiful Lyanna, stay with us… With me!"

"I'm not a candle in your table, Lord Baratheon!"

"Lyanna, lower your voice."

Ned whispered at her ear.

"I shall not remain quiet, brother! I'm tired. It was a long journey to Harrenhal… I shall retire to our Tent."

"Lyanna…"

Robert howled when she turned back and left the table.

"Let her be, Lord Robert. She just needs to rest."

Brandon patted his back.

"She needs to be my side, which is where she belongs!"

"You see her beauty, but you don't see the iron underneath, Robert."

Ned remarked.

* * *

Instead of heading to the Lord's Camp, Lyanna went to the Godswood.

The Godswood of Harrenhal walled over twenty acres, and it was larger than Winterfell's. It had a small stream running through it. Lyanna walked towards the Weirwood Tree that had a terrible face craved; with an expression full of hatred, with a twisted mouth and flaring eyes. It had thirteen ancient deep marks carved into its white bone trunk, and they were bleeding.

"Good evening."

A velvet voice sounded behind Lyanna's back, and she turned to face Rhaegar Targaryen.

"Good evening, Prince Rhaegar."

The Dragon Prince came closer to her.

"I'm afraid we weren't properly introduced to each other. I trust you to be Lady Stark."

Lyanna looked at him with suspicion.

"You were accompanying Lord Brandon and Lord Eddard of House Stark."

"Aye. I'm their younger sister, Lyanna."

"You are Lord Rickard Stark's only daughter."

It wasn't a question.

"Did you enough my performance?"

"Aye, I did. You're a very talented musician, Prince Rhaegar. I've found your music to be very touching."

"I feel I can trust your opinion to be true."

"It is not possible to lie in the presence of a Heart Tree."

"Did you come here in prayer, Lady Lyanna? I know that the worshippers of the Old Gods pray in front of Weirwood Trees. I've always wondered… Why _Winter is Coming_ are the words of House Stark?"

"There are always dark periods in our lives, and even if things are good now, we must always be ready for darkness that will turn the events against us. The darkness is the Winter, which hits the Northern lands the hardest."

"So the words of your House are connected with the myths about the Long Night?"

"What do you know about the myths Beyond the Wall, Prince Rhaegar?"

"My great-great uncle, Aemon, serves as a Maester to the Citadel, at Castle Black. He's bond to service in the Night's Watch for many years now."

"Those myths are nothing but fairy tales to scare children. Our Old Nun used to tell us, my brothers and I, about the Long Night and the Others, during our childhood."

"But they have a certain appeal, don't they?"

"Every child in the North grows-up listen to them. Perhaps the Southerners found them more terrifying than they really are."

"I don't find them terrifying, I found them fascinating. I've read a lot about the Northerner myths."

"Do you read often?"

"Every day… When I was a child, the people of Westeros joked about it. They used to say that my mother had swallowed some books and a candle while I was in her womb. My father's knights were surprised when I asked them for armor and a sword… You are a good swordswoman, yourself, Lady Lyanna. Do all women learn how to fight in the North?"

"Not all women, but some aye… My father isn't very fond of my enthusiasm for swords and horse riding, however."

"Why not?"

"My father is a very austere man. I was very surprised when he confirmed my coming to the Tourney. It's the first time I've ever left the North."

"I find Harrenhal a rather dark location. I was born in Summerhall, in The Stormlands... In the South everything is brighter. Although, I'm sure Lady Stark, born in Winterfell, won't share the same opinion."

"Aye, the North is a cold place… But I find it to be very beautiful… The snow and the cold winds… And I don't believe I adore Winterfell because it's my home. The North has a pure and ruthless enchantment. My favorite flowers grown there… The blue winter roses… They grow in the glass gardens of Winterfell. I adore their scent… Have you ever been to the North, Prince Rhaegar?"

"I'm afraid I haven't. But I'll make sure I will someday… As future King it is my duty to know my realm."

"I would like to meet the South someday as well. In my way here I realize that the world is so immense and yet I don't know any of it."

"I believe you will. One must know the world he lives in."

"Words of wisdom, Prince Rhaegar… I'm afraid I'll have to return, now. It's getting late in the night time."

"Of course. It's been a pleasure, Lady Lyanna."

Rhaegar took her hand gently and placed a courteous kiss.

"Good night, Prince Rhaegar."

Lyanna bowed and step aside, and while walking towards the Godswood she felt his eyes upon her back.

* * *

"Where have you been, Lyanna?"

The voice of Brandon Stark echoed in the Tend while the She-Wolf walked in.

"You left the Feast before us."

"I apologize. I went for a walk… To know Harrenhal better and the time flied."

"It's not safe for a Lady to walk alone in the night."

"Don't worry, brother. If any man tries to approach me I'll stick him with the pointy end!"

Lyanna laughed and grabbed a sword.

"If they allowed women to participate in the Tourney, I believe House Stark would take the price! We present you the Champion of the Tourney of Harrenhal: Lady Lyanna of House Stark!"

Ned jested.

"Don't mock me, brother! You know I'm a good swordswoman. Although, I would be much better if father allowed me to own a sword…"

"House Stark still can have a Champion."

Brandon recalled with a grin.

"Yes, we know… So you better win this Tourney, brother!"

Lyanna grabbed Brandon's shoulder and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Prince Rhaegar is an excellent and skilled knight for what I've heard."

"He's no match for you! I did not win in the past tournaments."

Benjen spoke with encouragement.

"We'll see… You got quite emotional this evening, Lyanna. I can't believe my young sister was weeping!"

"I wasn't weeping!"

"Crying is no shame, Lyanna. And Prince Rhaegar is an excellent musician."

"I was not crying!"

"Where are you going, Lord Howard?"

Ned noticed that Howland Reed was preparing to leave the Stark's Tent.

"I'll go to the Godswood and pray to the Old Gods, Lord Eddard, and thank them for the blessings I've received today."

"There is no need to go to the Godswood so late, Lord Reed."

"Aye, there is. Lords and Lady Stark have been very kind to me. And the Old Gods don't forget the laws of hospitality."

* * *

**Notes:**

**Laws of Hospitality**: Also known as _Guest Right_. There are considered sacred to the Old God's followers. When a guest, be he common born or noble, eats the food and drinks the drink off a host's table beneath the host's roof, _the guest right is invoked_. Bread and salt are the traditional provisions. If someone breaks the sacred covenant it is believed to invoke the wrath of the Gods, both Old and New.

* * *

**I'm so, so sorry I took so long to update, but I've been very busy with my final exams lately**.

**Hope you enjoyed it and it will be continued.**

**Let me know your opinion!**

**Thank you for the reading.**


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